


You're an Open Book

by BabyVillanelle



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Lee Jihoon | Woozi is Whipped, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, lots of flirting, mingyu has a Thing for praise, soft soft soft, someone finally teaches soonyoung how to use the library
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyVillanelle/pseuds/BabyVillanelle
Summary: “Shh!” Jihoon says, which just makes Mingyu laugh again as he flops down onto the carpet next to him.“Do they teach you how to do that in library school?” he whispers, loudly, leaning conspiratorially towards Jihoon. Jihoon just rolls his eyes.“Yeah, there’s a whole course on shush-ing,” he says, shoving a book onto his cart and crossing it off the list in his lap. Mingyu giggles. Honest-to-god giggles, like a happy baby. Jihoon suddenly feels very hot all over his body.“You’ll get an A,” Mingyu says.--Jihoon is a librarian who loves peace and quiet. Mingyu is a hockey player who loves his best friends and won't stop snacking in the library.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 266
Collections: Himbo Hive





	You're an Open Book

Jihoon loves his job, he does. He especially loves the days when he gets to be alone in the stacks, among all the books, or gets to order new records for the music collection. Those are the good days, the peaceful days. Today is not one of those days. 

His wrist hurts from lifting books out of the book drop, and some entitled old white lady is currently yelling at him over the phone. 

“No, ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t just buy the library a new copy on Amazon,” Jihoon says, twirling the phone cord tightly around his pointer finger until it turns white, “We have a specific supplier we order from.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, and Jihoon looks over at Seokmin, who is sitting further down the circulation desk, and rolls his eyes. Seokmin giggles silently. 

The woman on the phone says something under her breath and then swears. 

“I understand, ma’am,” Jihoon says placidly, “Why don’t I transfer you to my supervisor. She can take care of this for you.” 

He types in Jihyo’s extension and hangs up. He sighs, pressing his palms against his eyes. Days like this make him wish he’d picked some other career path, one that involved far less interaction with the general public.

“Let me guess,” Seokmin says, sliding down the desk in his rolly chair, “Her kid spilled milk all over a  _ Harry Potter _ book?” 

“ _ Percy Jackson _ ,” Jihoon says resignedly, “And it was Cherry Coke.” 

“Ah,” Seokmin nods, “Of course. And the fine was-”

“Less than ten dollars, yup,” Jihoon says. 

“Why is it that the people with huge fines never get as angry as the ones with small fines?” Seokmin says, “Yesterday an old man almost made Tzuyu cry because she told him he owed seventy-five cents.” 

“I don’t know,” Jihoon says, taking a sip of his coffee, then returning the travel mug to its spot under the desk, “But Jihyo will clear the fine, and in two months this shitty kid will do it again.” 

An affronted looking old lady drops a stack of well-worn Danielle Steel books in the returns slot and scuffles away. Jihoon and Seokmin wait until she’s out of earshot and dissolve into giggles. 

Seokmin makes days like this easier. 

Jihoon is on the verge of feeling better about how today is going when he looks up and sees the next group of patrons enter the library. 

“Oh, god,” Jihoon says quietly to Seokmin, his heart sinking, “Here we go.” 

A squad of handsome jocks strolls through the front entrance, cocky smiles on their faces. There are four of them, tall and dressed like they’re headed to the gym, their keys on lanyards around their necks. 

Jihoon has seen their type a hundred times before; it was almost finals season, and that meant an influx of students from the nearby college, there to get research done or work on group projects. They were loud, they left behind big messes, and were generally a disruption to Jihoon’s daily routine. 

As far as Jihoon can tell, these boys are no different. The athletes are always the worst. They’re already laughing loudly, and two of them are tickling each other and drawing the attention of nearby patrons.

“What the  _ fuck _ , dude,” one of them says loudly. 

“ _ DUDE _ ,” the other one whisper-yells, “ _ We’re in a library, keep it DOWN.”  _

“ _ Oh shit, sorry _ ,” the first kid says, his big eyes getting bigger as he looks around at the front desk, his eyes landing on Jihoon. He smiles apologetically, showing off a truly astonishing amount of bright white teeth. 

_ Surely that’s more teeth than should be in a person’s mouth, _ Jihoon thinks to himself as he forces a tight-lipped smile in response. 

The other two boys seem to be a little more subdued, at least, even if they are looking around like they’d never been in a library before. 

The tallest of the group approaches the desk, and Jihoon is immediately annoyed that he has to kind of crane his neck to look up at him. The boy bends down a little to talk to him, resting his palms on the desk. He’s that specific brand of athletic boy pretty, with a big head and broad shoulders that Jihoon can see through his navy-blue university sweatshirt.

“Hey,” he says, smiling in a way that he had obviously been told was charming, and in any other circumstance, it might have worked on Jihoon too, “Can we reserve a study room?” 

His tone of voice is unexpectedly gentle, his “ _ s _ ” sounding more like a “ _ th _ ”, but Jihoon is still wary. 

“You have to go upstairs to reference,” he says, pointing at the ceiling. The boy smiles, seemingly unaware of Jihoon’s sour mood, showing off perfect white teeth and sharp canines. 

_ What is it with these boys? Why do they have so many teeth?  _ Jihoon thinks, frowning.

“Thank you,” the kid says gently, then leads the other boys upstairs. As soon as they’re gone, Jihoon looks over at Seokmin, who just raises his eyebrows. 

“He was gorgeous,” he says, nodding in the direction of the stairs. Jihoon rolls his eyes. 

“He was  _ annoying, _ ” Jihoon says, pulling his coffee out again and taking a long sip. It’s only 9:30 in the morning and he’s already done with today. He stands up out of his chair, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, the phone starts to ring again. 

“I gotta piss,” he says to Seokmin, “That’s all you.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Seokmin says, reaching for the phone. 

* * *

Jihoon finds a few minutes of peace in the nonfiction section, sitting on a stool, headphones in, meticulously checking books off of the list in his lap before removing them from the shelves. 

As he’s reaching for a dusty, dog-eared copy of  _ Low Carb Diets Made Easy!  _ he feels someone’s eyes on him. It’s the tall kid with the pointy teeth and the lisp, standing at the end of the aisle, shaking a bottled protein drink in one big hand, and looking directly at Jihoon. 

Jihoon sighs and pulls his headphones out of one ear. 

_ This might as well happen,  _ he thinks.

“Can I help you find something?” he says, and the kid flashes a genuine smile at him. He shakes his head and unscrews the cap of his drink.

“What are you doing with those books?” he asks, before taking a big gulp. Jihoon furrows his brows. 

“Weeding,” he says, plainly, placing a book on the cart behind him. The kid cocks his head to the side in confusion, and Jihoon is reminded suddenly of a puppy hearing an unfamiliar sound. Jihoon blinks at him, “Getting rid of books people don’t read anymore. Making room for new books that people actually want to read.” 

“Ohh,” the kid says with a contemplative nod, “That actually makes a lot of sense.” 

Jihoon doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just gives him a closed-lip smile, then turns back to his list. But the kid doesn’t move, just takes another drink from his shake, his eyes fixed on Jihoon. 

“You’re not supposed to have that in here,” Jihoon says plainly, crossing another book off of the list. The kid laughs. Why isn’t he leaving? 

“Are you gonna tell on me?” 

Jihoon looks up in surprise. The kid smiles back at him, taking another step closer to where Jihoon is working. For the first time, Jihoon actually lets himself take a good look at him and realizes with a wave of annoyance that Seokmin was right. He is handsome, with well-formed lips, soft dark hair to go with his deep brown eyes, and dark, honey-colored skin. 

“Jihoon,” he says, stooping to read Jihoon’s name tag, “I’m Mingyu.” 

“Hi Mingyu,” Jihoon says, “I’m working.” 

“Oh, okay,” Mingyu says, his face falling, “Gotcha.”

He turns and walks towards the end of the aisle, and Jihoon sighs. He’s a good person, deep down, and making pretty boys sad isn’t something he gets any joy out of. 

“Wait,” he says, and Mingyu turns back, looking at him expectantly. 

“Uh,” Jihoon says while his brain buffers. He hadn’t actually thought of anything to say, “You in school?” 

He thinks briefly about smacking himself in the face with the heavy cookbook he’s just re-shelved. Mingyu’s face lights up. Jihoon still can’t tell if he’s being sincere or fucking with him. Mingyu’s smile is pretty, either way.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says cheerfully, coming closer and leaning against a bookshelf, “I’m a senior. You?”

“Nah,” Jihoon says, shaking his head and looking back at his list, mostly to avoid having to look at Mingyu’s face, “I graduated two years ago. I’m starting my masters in the fall.” 

“That’s sick, dude!” Mingyu says, sounding genuinely impressed, “Masters in what?”

“Library science,” Jihoon says with a little smirk. Mingyu nods enthusiastically. 

“Awesome,” he says, pointing at Jihoon with his protein drink, “You must be really smart.” 

“Yeah,” Jihoon says, then blushes furiously and grabs a random book off of the shelf, clutching it to his chest, “I mean, I guess.” 

Mingyu laughs, too loud for the quiet of the library. Jihoon shoots him a warning look, but he ignores it. 

“Hey, Mingyu,” a voice calls softly. The boy with too many teeth is hovering awkwardly at the end of the aisle, “We need you for this slide.” 

Mingyu looks at Jihoon and shrugs apologetically, like all he wants to do in the world is stay here and talk to him. 

“See you later,” he says, with a sly smile, then follows the other boy back to the study room. 

Jihoon doesn’t see Mingyu later, or at all for the rest of the day. He has to go back to the circulation desk at one, and every time someone walks down the stairs, he looks up, but it’s never Mingyu. 

“Looking for someone?” Seokmin teases when he notices what Jihoon is doing. 

“Fuck off,” Jihoon says with a scowl. 

* * *

The next morning, Mingyu comes back alone, approaching the desk with his hands in his pockets and a look on his face like he’s up to something. 

“If you want a study room, you have to go upstairs to reference,” Jihoon says casually, sipping at his coffee. It’s too early in the day for him to have to perceive someone this beautiful. He simply doesn’t have the stamina for it. Mingyu, unhelpfully, just smiles at him, which only makes Jihoon more painfully aware of how gorgeous he is. Jihoon might be getting a tension headache. 

“I know,” Mingyu says cheerily, “I just wanted to say good morning. So, Good morning!” 

Jihoon hesitates. He sets his coffee down. 

“Good morning,” he says, slowly, “Mingyu.” 

Mingyu’s whole face lights up like he’s just been given the best present and he can’t believe his luck. 

“You remembered,” Mingyu says, “Jihoon.” 

Jihoon ignores the little pleased jolt he gets when Mingyu says his name, choosing instead to just wave curtly as Mingyu heads upstairs, fitting his thumbs under his backpack straps as he goes. 

The rest of the boys come in later in the morning, and to their credit, they do seem slightly more at ease today, looking less confused, and one of them gives Jihoon a kind little smile and wave as they walk up the stairs. 

Jihoon is sitting on the floor in the 600 aisle of the stacks when he sees Mingyu again. He strolls between the shelves like he belongs there, pouring a bag of almonds into his mouth as he goes. 

“Hey,” he says, one hand up to cover his full mouth. 

“Hi,” Jihoon says, looking up at Mingyu, “What’s up?” 

Mingyu shrugs and swallows. 

“Not much, got bored, wanted to see what the cute librarian was up to,” he says, smiling with such sincerity that Jihoon has to laugh. He’s kidding, right? He has to be kidding. 

“Are you hitting on me?” Jihoon asks incredulously. Somehow, that possibility had not occurred to him before exactly right now. Guys like Mingyu don’t usually pay attention to him. At least, not like this.

“Definitely,” Mingyu says with a cocky grin. He pours more almonds into his mouth, tucking them into his cheek like a chipmunk, “That okay?” 

Jihoon looks at Mingyu from his spot on the floor. Today he’s wearing a tight white t-shirt tucked into a pair of black joggers. He’s even rolled the ends of his sleeves up. Jihoon’s mouth suddenly feels very dry and he cannot remember a single word he knows. He blinks and shrugs, turning back to the books. 

“Sure,” he says after a few beats, trying for nonchalance.

Mingyu laughs, loudly but not unkindly, and Jihoon whips his head back around to look at him. 

“Shh!” he says, which just makes Mingyu laugh again as he flops down onto the carpet next to Jihoon.

“ _ Do they teach you how to do that in library school? _ ” he whispers, loudly, leaning conspiratorially towards Jihoon. Jihoon just rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, there’s a whole course on shush-ing,” he says, shoving a book onto his cart and crossing it off the list in his lap. Mingyu giggles. Honest-to-god giggles, like a happy baby. Jihoon suddenly feels very hot all over his body. 

“You’ll get an A,” Mingyu says, leaning against the shelf Jihoon was weeding. 

“Thanks,” Jihoon says, nudging Mingyu’s side with a heavy book. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he says, scooting over so he was out of Jihoon’s way.

Jihoon tries to keep working, grabbing the next book on his list. He’s about to cross it off and toss it on the cart when Mingyu stops him.

“Wait, don’t get rid of that one!” he says, placing a hand on the book, “It’s one of my favorites.”

Jihoon looks down. The title  _ Successful Sex in your Eighties!  _ is written in tacky bubble font over a photo of a smiling old lady, who is reclined sensually against a pile of embroidered throw pillows. Jihoon looks back up at Mingyu in surprise, and Mingyu just giggles again, obviously very pleased with himself. 

“Wow,” Jihoon says dryly.

“Sorry for bothering you again,” Mingyu says, making no move to get up, instead kicking his long legs out and effectively blocking the whole aisle. Jihoon looks pointedly at his legs and then at his face, but Mingyu doesn’t seem to notice, because he just keeps smiling at him, “I got bored.” 

“Mm,” Jihoon hums, sliding another book off the shelf. 

“They don’t really need me for this part of the project, anyway, so,” Mingyu says with a grin, pouring more almonds into his mouth. Jihoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“You’re  _ really _ not supposed to eat in here.” 

“Oh, fuck!” Mingyu says, his eyes widening. He swallows, “I totally forgot! Sorry!” 

He sounds genuinely sorry, and Jihoon feels a pang of regret for speaking to him so harshly. Mingyu quickly shoves the rest of the bag into his pants pocket, the motion making him lean closer to Jihoon. 

Jihoon catches a hint of the warm smell of him, all spice and salt and has to press his tongue against the roof of his mouth to stop himself from inhaling deeper.

“It’s okay,” Jihoon says slowly, “Uh, what were you working on?”

Mingyu groans and throws his head back against the bookshelf, knocking a few books out of place. He looks apologetic and scrambles to fix them quickly before sitting back down. 

“Astronomy,” he sighs, “Group project on the history of the universe.” 

“Ah,” Jihoon says, “A short project, then.” 

Mingyu laughs harder than Jihoon thinks the comment deserves, but he gives Mingyu a smile back anyway. He’s been smiling a lot more than he usually does at work, these past two days. 

“Nah, it’s not too bad,” Mingyu says, stretching his arms back behind his head, the movement emphasizing the bulk of his triceps. Jihoon wonders idly if at some point someone had told him to do that, or if he really just is that effortlessly sexy, “It’s mostly guys from the team anyway, trying to do our last gen-ed requirement.” 

“The team?” Jihoon asks, pulling two more well-worn books from the shelf and tossing them onto the cart with a metallic clang. 

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, smiling again, “Hockey.” 

“ _ Wow _ , hockey,” Jihoon says, pressing his lips together.  _ Fuck it.  _ He looks at Mingyu’s chest and shoulders again, “Makes sense.” 

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. 

“ _ Jihoon _ ,” he says, leaning towards him with a terrible grin, “Are you hitting on me?”

Jihoon shoves the last of the books onto his cart and stands up, dusting off his pants. He looks down at Mingyu and cocks his head to the side. Might as well put all his cards on the table. 

“Maybe,” he says, working hard to keep his gaze cool and disinterested, “Is that okay?” 

“God,  _ yes, _ ” Mingyu says, beaming up at him. Jihoon chuckled, popping his headphones in and rolling the cart back down the aisle, leaving Mingyu sitting on the carpet. 

“Bye, Mingyu,” he whispered, walking backward for a second before turning around. 

“Bye, cute librarian,” Mingyu calls after him. His voice is loud enough in the quiet library that Wonwoo looks up from where he was working at the reference desk and frowns at Jihoon. Jihoon sighs and rolls his eyes up to the ceiling.

* * *

“This isn’t boring for you?” Jihoon asks, wiggling two books apart to fit in a fat biography of Marilyn Monroe onto the shelf. 

Mingyu shakes his head. He has a protein drink with him again today, and Jihoon wants to tell him to put it away, not because he’s not allowed to have it but because he keeps wrapping his big, dumb hand around it and absentmindedly shaking it at precisely dick-level. 

“Nope!” he says cheerily, “I like talking to you.” 

Jihoon levels him with a steady look, before pulling his cart further down the aisle. Mingyu follows along happily. 

After three days of this, Jihoon has pretty much decided that Mingyu  _ isn’t _ fucking with him, but he’s still unused to his eager attention. It really is very much like being followed around by an excited german shepherd. Not that Jihoon minds that, exactly, he just isn’t sure what Mingyu  _ wants _ from him. He can’t only be sticking around because he enjoys Jihoon’s sparkling conversation. 

But something inside Jihoon tells him that he can trust Mingyu. His presence is so calming and gentle and Jihoon wants to sink into it like a bubble bath. 

“So, uh,” Jihoon says, nervously flipping a book on John Muir over in his hands, “How’s the homework going?” 

“Ugh,” Mingyu groans with a cute little pout, “Awful. It is not easy to do a project with your best friends.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a laugh, “I could have told you that. Are they mad that you keep coming out here to hit on the staff?” 

“Nah,” Mingyu says casually, sidestepping Jihoon’s cart to get closer to him, “They know what’s up. Seungcheol - that’s my roommate, he’s the one that made me come talk to you, the first time.” 

JIhoon’s genuine surprise must show in his face, because Mingyu tilts his head and smiles questioningly. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Jihoon says, shrugging as he shelves three copies of  _ Becoming  _ by Michelle Obama, “Just, I’ve met hockey boys before. They are usually a little more … uh…”

“Aggressive? Shitty? Homophobic?” Mingyu finishes for him.

Jihoon laughs. 

“You said it, not me.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Mingyu says, “I thought the same thing, before. But we,” he nods towards the study room, “Ended up in a quad freshman year, and they kinda changed my mind. Cheol is bi, Vernon’s gay, and Soonyoung is…actually I’m not sure what Soonyoung is. He hooks up with everyone. He might be a furry.” 

Mingyu shrugs at that, like he genuinely doesn’t mind either way. Something in Jihoon’s chest softens. 

“You really love your friends,” Jihoon says, glancing sideways at Mingyu. 

“Hell yeah I do!” he says brightly, “They’re my boys!” 

Jihoon pulls the cart into the next aisle, and again, Mingyu follows him, taking a long drink from his protein shake. Jihoon stares at the lines of his throat and contemplates smacking the bottle out of his hands and onto the floor. 

“We really needed each other, that first year,” Mingyu continues, interrupting Jihoon’s train of thought, “Like you said, hockey guys are  _ rough _ , yo. But after a while, they figured out that they shouldn’t mess with us.” 

Jihoon looks Mingyu up and down. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and his jaw is set in a hard line. Jihoon tries to imagine this kid having to be aggressive, having to physically protect the people he cares about. Mingyu catches him looking and giggles. 

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his hands in front of him, “Not me. But you should see Soonyoung when he’s angry,” he shudders, “It’s seriously scary.” 

Another image comes into Jihoon’s mind; Mingyu, with a little more baby fat on him, standing shyly behind a furious Soonyoung. That one hurts. He thinks he understands, though. He’s known Mingyu for barely three days and he’s just about willing to throw down for him, too, even if he does keep distracting Jihoon from his job with his stupid, giant, hands. 

Jihoon keeps his eyes on Mingyu as he stands on his tip-toes to put an oversized art book on the top shelf. It’s a practiced action, one he’s done a thousand times, but usually he doesn’t have an enormous, sexy, idiot there to distract him. His hand slips and he doesn’t quite get the book all the way onto the shelf before he lets it go, and the weight of it pulls it backward. 

Mingyu moves quickly, stepping in between Jihoon and the bookshelf and catching the book right before it’s sharp corner hits Jihoon on the head. Jihoon just blinks at him for a second, his mouth open and his heart pounding wildly. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” he says, “Thanks.” 

Mingyu, is right in front of him now, still holding the heavy book and smiling proudly down at him. He hands the book to Jihoon with a crooked smile, his perfect lips distressingly close to Jihoon’s face. He’s close enough to reach up and wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull him down into-

“Jihoon!” a voice calls from the end of the aisle. Jihoon drops back down onto his heels and turns quickly.  _ Fuck _ .  _ Jihyo _ . 

His boss stares at him, the corners of her mouth pulled into a grumpy little frown, “We need you downstairs.” 

In a panic, Jihoon shoves the book in his hands back against Mingyu’s chest, probably too hard, judging by the “ _ oof _ ” that Mingyu lets out. 

“Sorry,” Jihoon says, either to Mingyu or Jihyo, or both, he’s not sure. He’s running on pure adrenaline. He scurries away down the aisle without looking back. 

The elevator ride downstairs is tense, with Jihyo staring resolutely forward and the closed silver doors. 

“Uh,” Jihoon says awkwardly, “That wasn’t what it looked...like?”

“Don’t,” Jihyo says, holding a hand up and looking pained, “I don’t care. Seriously. Just go help Tzuyu answer the phones.”

“Yup,” Jihoon says, nodding quickly, “For sure, absolutely. I’ll get right on that.” 

Jihyo just rolls her eyes, and as soon as the elevator stops and the doors slide open, she’s already walking away quickly, disappearing into her office behind the circulation desk. 

Jihoon lets out a breath and touches the back of his hand to his cheek. It’s burning hot and probably bright pink, but he steels himself and heads over towards Tzuyu anyway. 

His baby-faced colleague is battling with a particularly cranky patron and also holding a ringing phone in her hand, her big eyes looking panicked as they flick back and forth between the two.

Jihoon walks up behind her and grabs the phone, sliding it out of her hands. She looks at him gratefully, mouthing a quick “ _ Thank you!!”,  _ before turning back to the patron.

* * *

Jihoon is packing his bag to go home when Mingyu and his friends make their noisy way down the stairs across from the circulation desk. Jihoon’s face heats up immediately when he sees him, but if Mingyu’s upset or embarrassed, he certainly doesn’t show it.

Mingyu catches sight of him and smiles, but before he can walk over, another one of his friends grabs him by the arm, whispering something frantically in Mingyu’s ear and pointing eagerly at Jihoon. Mingyu rolls his eyes, but pats the kid on the back and nods. 

“What was that about?” Jihoon asks when Mingyu is within earshot. 

“Oh,” Mingyu says, looking a little sheepish, “That’s Soonyoung. He, uh, wanted me to ask you to find a book.” 

Jihoon pauses and looks up from shutting down his computer for the night.

“What book?” he asks. Mingyu shrugs. 

“Um,” he hesitates, looking back over his shoulder at Soonyoung, who gives him two big thumbs up and smiles so wide his eyes crinkled, “He didn’t say.” 

Jihoon huffs out a laugh, leaning on the desk with his elbows. 

“I mean a title would be helpful.” 

“All he said was that he wanted to know what the numbers meant?” 

Jihoon just stares at him, blinking twice before he answers. 

“Which numbers?” 

“Uhh,” Mingyu says, scrunching his nose, “The little ones? On the spine?” 

Jihoon rubs a hand over his face. He wants to go home. Mingyu is lucky he’s cute.

“The call numbers?” Jihoon asks, “He wants me to teach him the Dewey Decimal system?” 

“I guess?” Mingyu looks confused, but like he really does want to understand, which makes Jihoon’s heart squeeze with a resigned fondness. He sighs. 

“Okay,” Jihoon relents, “I’m about to go home, but tell him to come in tomorrow and I’ll get him signed up for a card and I’ll… I’ll show him how to use the library.” 

Mingyu beams at him and reaches across the desk to squeeze his arm. His big, warm hand envelops most of Jihoon’s forearm and he stares at it for just a beat too long before nodding up at Mingyu. 

“You’re like ... amazing,” Mingyu says kindly, and Jihoon blushes. 

“It’s my job,” he says, “And um, I’m sorry. About earlier, with the book. If I hurt you. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it!” Mingyu says, “I got these to protect me, don’t I?” 

He flips his jacket off of his shoulders and flexes, showing off the muscles in his chest. Jihoon malfunctions. He can feel his face burn bright red as he tries, and fails, to avoid looking directly at Mingyu’s nipples. Mingyu laughs again. 

“See you tomorrow!” he says with a wave as he walks back over to his friends. He throws one arm over Soonyoung’s shoulder and kisses him sloppily on the top of the head. Soonyoung giggles and waves at Jihoon, leaning into Mingyu’s side as they walk away. Jihoon just stares after them, feeling a lot like he just survived a hurricane. 

* * *

As Jihoon walks to his car on Friday afternoon, rain starts to fall; big heavy drops that smack loudly against the pavement. He walks more quickly, unlocking his car and ducking inside. As he watches, the rain starts to come down harder, and after a minute, he can barely see through his windshield. 

He shivers and turns on his car, flicking on the windshield wipers. His car is old, and the heating barely works, but it’s still better than trying to walk home in this downpour.

He sees a figure in a sweatshirt making their way down the street, and it’s not until he’s almost passed by that he realizes that it’s Mingyu, his shoulders hunched and his hood pulled up against the rain. Without a second thought, Jihoon puts on his hazard lights and pulls over. 

“Hey,” he calls, “Do you need a ride?” 

Mingyu looks up in surprise, his brows furrowed until he recognizes Jihoon in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t hesitate for a second, just grins and reaches for the door. As soon as it’s open, he slumps into the passenger seat and exhales heavily. 

“You gonna murder me?” he says, rolling his head to look at Jihoon. 

“Uh,” Jihoon says, “No?” 

“Sick,” Mingyu says with a smile, “Had to check.” 

He ruffles his hand through his wet hair, spraying water droplets all over the inside of the car, and onto Jihoon’s face. Jihoon closes his eyes tightly and opens them again to see Mingyu looking at him apologetically. 

“Sorry,” he says, reaching forward with his sleeve to wipe off Jihoon’s face, but his sweatshirt is still soaked with rain, so it makes a  _ squish _ when he presses it to Jihoon’s cheek. He looks at Jihoon with wide eyes, his eyelashes clumping together, and Jihoon pushes his hand away, laughing. 

“I got it,” he says, wiping his face with his dry sleeve. Mingyu giggles, but still looks nervous. 

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, “I’m kind of a mess today.” 

“S’okay,” Jihoon says, pulling back out into the street, “I don’t mind.” 

And he truly doesn’t. He doesn’t mind anything Mingyu does, because it’s  _ Mingyu _ . Kind, well-intentioned, goofy Mingyu, who is dripping all over the inside of Jihoon’s car. Who looks gorgeous, even soaking wet and shivering. Who is looking at Jihoon like he’s something special. 

Mingyu directs Jihoon to his apartment building, a high-rise near his school. They pull up out front and Mingyu fiddles with his seatbelt for too long, cutting glances over at Jihoon. 

“Um,” he says, “Sorry if this is weird, and you don’t have to say yes, obviously, but do you want to come in?” 

Jihoon blinks at him. 

“Oh,” Jihoon says, his heart pounding, “Sure.” 

Jihoon follows Mingyu inside and to the elevator, where Mingyu squats down and unzips his backpack. 

“Just checking to make sure my library books didn’t get wet,” he says, grinning. He pulls one out to show off, “All dry!” 

“Good,” Jihoon says with a quick nod, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Otherwise I’d have to fine you.” 

Mingyu laughs at that, tossing his head back. He looks so terribly cute knelt on the floor like that, his hair flopping wetly in front of his eyes, and Jihoon kind of wants to wreck him.

“Thank you, by the way, for showing Soonyoung how to use the library,” Mingyu says as he zips up his bag and stands, “He was really excited. He checked out like fifteen books on big cats.” 

“Yeah,” Jihoon says, “He told me the library was, ‘a mystery that had eluded him for too long’ and he was glad I helped him solve it.”

Mingyu laughs again, that high-pitched giggle that is quickly becoming Jihoon’s favorite sound. 

Mingyu’s apartment is cleaner than Jihoon was expecting. Sure, all the furniture looks second-hand, and the only decorations on the walls are a few framed photos and a big flag hanging over the couch that says “SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS” in giant red-white-and-blue font. But everything is neat and smells like clean laundry.

Mingyu offers to take Jihoon’s shoes and places them, along with his own, on a rack by the door. 

Mingyu’s roommate, Seungcheol, comes into the living room with his raincoat and backpack on.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, “You going out?” 

“Yeah,” Seungcheol responds distractedly, his focus on his phone, “Gotta study for tomorrow.” 

He’s almost at the door when Mingyu clears his throat. Seungcheol turns on his heel and looks up from his phone, and Mingyu taps on his cheek expectantly. Seungcheol rolls his eyes fondly and walks over to kiss Mingyu on the cheek. Mingyu grins and fiddles with the collar of Seungcheol’s jacket, fixing it where it’s folded under his backpack straps. 

“Text me if you end up staying over somewhere?” Mingyu asks, leaning back to look into Seungcheol’s eyes. Seungcheol must be used to this, because he just nods and pats Mingyu’s shoulder affectionately before heading for the door.

When Mingyu turns back to Jihoon, he has one eyebrow raised. 

“What?” Mingyu says, tilting his head, “You don’t kiss your homies good night?” 

“Not usually, no.” 

“You gotta get better homies, then,” Mingyu says as he sets down his bag and unzips his wet sweatshirt, shivering when the cool air of the apartment touches his damp skin. 

“Guess I do,” Jihoon says, trying to look everywhere except at the way Mingyu’s t-shirt is clinging to his chest. Mingyu giggles nervously, twisting his dripping sweatshirt in his hands. 

“Um,” he says hesitantly, “Is it okay if I take a shower? I’m f-freezing. I’ll be fast, I promise.” 

Jihoon nods quickly. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he says, “Take your time.” 

“O-ohkay,” Mingyu says, teeth chattering, “Make yourself at home?” 

Jihoon settles onto one of the couches as Mingyu goes into the bathroom and closes the door. Jihoon rubs his hands on his thighs and looks around the apartment hesitantly. 

It’s always strange to be in someone else’s space for the first time. Every little thing they have starts to take on significant meaning. Jihoon is starting to realize, as he takes in Mingyu’s living room, that he doesn’t really know that much about him. And suddenly, he really wants to know everything. He wants to know where Mingyu grew up, and if those dog-eared cookbooks in the kitchen belong to him. 

Jihoon hears the tell-tale noise of plastic clattering in the bathroom, and smiles to himself at the image of Mingyu knocking over his shampoo bottles. 

He waits another minute, then stands up and paces around the room, wandering over to the small collection of photos by the front door. There’s an official-looking photo of the varsity hockey team, and Jihoon easily spots Mingyu in the back row. He shines in his uniform, all golden and broad, and Jihoon feels that surge of horny fondness that he’s come to associate with Mingyu. 

There’s a whole assortment of photos of Mingyu with the three boys from the library, Seungcheol, Soonyoung, and the boy with the teeth, who Jihoon now knows is named Vernon. There’s the four of them at parties, on group vacations, at the zoo, and one inexplicable blurry photo of them all squeezed into the same dorm shower stall. 

In the center of all of these is a larger frame that looks to have been handmade out of recycled wood and metal bottle caps. The photo is the four boys on a beach somewhere, with white sand under their feet, bright blue water in the background, and them in the foreground, arms wrapped tightly around each other’s shoulders, matching smiles on their faces. 

“Soonyoung made that,” Mingyu says, coming to stand next to Jihoon, freshly showered and changed into cozy sweatpants and a loose-collared t-shirt, “His frat had an arts and crafts night. He was really proud of it.” 

Jihoon chuckles half-heartedly.

“Cute,” he says, but his eyes are stuck on the generous amount of Mingyu’s collarbone he is now able to see. 

“Yeah,” Mingyu agrees cheerfully, “We like him.” 

Before he gives himself a chance to overthink it, Jihoon reaches over and slips his hand into Mingyu’s, squeezing it once. His hand is pleasantly warm and soft from the shower, and it feels good against Jihoon’s skin. Mingyu squeezes Jihoon’s hand back and looks down at him, a shy grin on his face. That’s what does it for Jihoon, really, the idea that holding his hand is making Mingyu shy. Jihoon absolutely needs to find out what other things make Mingyu shy. If shy Mingyu looks like this, all shining puppy dog eyes and pouty lips, he wants to see shy Mingyu all the time. 

Jihoon stands on his tip-toes, cups Mingyu’s jaw in his hand, and pulls him down into a kiss. 

When Jihoon leans back, Mingyu’s eyes are still closed, his lips parted. He opens his eyes slowly, looking dazed. 

“Sorry,” Jihoon says, “Was that…” 

“Shh,” Mingyu says, pressing a finger to Jihoon’s lips, “I’ve been waiting for you to do that since I saw you for the first time. I’m savoring the moment.” 

“You’re weird,” Jihoon says. 

“ _ You’re  _ weird,” Mingyu responds, a wide, dopey grin on his face. 

“Shut up,” Jihoon says. Mingyu’s grin gets wider. 

“Make me,” he counters. 

“Which room is yours?” Jihoon asks with a cocky grin. 

Mingyu just laughs and takes hold of his hand again, leading him down the hallway. 

Mingyu’s room smells just as clean as the rest of the apartment, and Jihoon catches sight of a well-made bed before Mingyu flops down onto the center of it, pulling Jihoon down on top of him. 

Jihoon braces his arms on either side of Mingyu’s head and grins down at him, before ducking down and pressing a gentle, closed-mouth kiss to Mingyu’s top lip. He pulls back and smirks before leaning in again, kissing just his bottom lip this time, before pulling back again. Mingyu lets out a quiet noise that might be a whine and tries to kiss Jihoon back, but Jihoon ducks out of the way. But then Mingyu pouts and Jihoon melts, dipping his head down and pressing their lips together for real this time. 

“What do you want?” Jihoon asks after a minute, firmly gripping the short hairs at the back of Mingyu’s neck, forcing his head back gently. Mingyu opens his eyes slowly, looking blearily up at Jihoon. 

“Can- uh,” Mingyu says, his cheeks and ears turning red. Jihoon smiles a little, raising his eyebrows, “Want you.” 

Jihoon feels those two words like a punch to the gut. He wants to eat Mingyu whole. He leans in and nips at the side of Mingyu’s neck, biting down once, then twice, then mumbles into Mingyu’s skin, 

“What do you want me to do?” 

Mingyu shudders underneath him, his hands twitching where they’ve settled on Jihoon’s waist. 

“F-fuck me,” Mingyu says, and Jihoon sits straight up, his eyes searching Mingyu’s face, “Um, please. Please fuck me.” 

“Oh,” Jihoon says, and Mingyu tenses, his hands dropping away from Jihoon’s body and gripping the duvet instead. He props himself up on his elbows, his eyes going big and frantic. 

“You don’t have to, I mean, uh,” Mingyu says quickly, “Is it too soon? Sorry, we don’t have to do that. Yet. I mean. Or- or at all, if you don’t-” Jihoon shakes his head quickly, taking Mingyu’s face in his hands. 

“No, sorry,” he says, kissing Mingyu’s nose apologetically, “I was just surprised, that’s all. I want that. I really,  _ really  _ want that.” 

Mingyu blushes again, biting his bottom lip. 

“Big dork,” Jihoon says with a grin. He kisses Mingyu on the forehead, “Gonna let me take care of you?” 

Mingyu whines, nodding quickly. Jihoon holds his shoulder and pushes, laying Mingyu back down on the bed. Mingyu goes easily, wiggling his shoulders happily and grinning up at Jihoon. 

“Adorable,” Jihoon says. Mingyu smiles wider, cocking his head to the side. Jihoon braces his other hand on Mingyu’s shoulder, then moves down and squeezes his biceps. He hisses in appreciation. The muscles are firm, but his skin is warm and soft. 

Jihoon runs his hands down to Mingyu’s wrists, then grabs them and holds them together in one hand, pushing his arms down on the bed above his head. Mingyu whines again, his back arching up off of the bed. 

Jihoon’s breath catches in his throat at how lovely Mingyu looks like this. He’s torn between wanting to absolutely ruin him and wanting to spend hours just telling him how good and perfect he is. 

“Can you keep your hands like that?” Jihoon asks tentatively, sitting back on Mingyu’s lap. Mingyu’s breath hitches as he nods quickly, eager to please. 

“Course you can,” Jihoon says, playing with the hem of Mingyu’s shirt, “You’re gonna be so good for me, right?” Mingyu hums, his lips parted and his breath coming in quick pants. 

“Kiss me,” he says, a little breathless, but it comes out more like  _ kith me _ , and who is Jihoon to deny him anything when he sounds like that? 

“You’re. So. Cute.” Jihoon says, kissing him gently between each word. Every compliment has Mingyu blushing harder, his face turning red along with his ears. As Jihoon kisses him, he trails his fingertips down Mingyu’s neck and across his collarbones. Mingyu, the perfect boy he is, tilts his head to the side to give Jihoon better access. 

Jihoon smirks and kisses his chin and then licks his neck. Mingyu whines again, squirming and pressing his hips up against Jihoon’s ass. Jihoon just smiles and kisses down his chest over his shirt, dragging his hands down Mingyu’s arms as he goes. 

When Jihoon reaches Mingyu’s waist, he slides his hands up under his shirt, scraping his nails into hot skin and making Mingyu whimper. 

Jihoon is gentle as he continues to undress Mingyu, stopping after each article of clothing to kiss whatever part of him he could reach. His neck. The center of his chest. His hip bones. 

“ _ Wow, _ ” Jihoon mumbles, “ _ Shit. _ ” 

“What?” 

“You’re gorgeous.” 

Mingyu covers his face, throwing one arm over his eyes. He makes a muffled sound that is half-squeak, half-gasp. 

“Look,” Jihoon insists, “Hey, look at this.” 

Mingyu peeks out from under his arm and Jihoon runs his hands down Mingyu’s chest, to his belly, soft where the muscles are relaxed. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he says, voice full of awe as he traces along the waistband of Mingyu’s underwear, the muscles there jumping under his fingertips. Mingyu whines insistently, tilting his hips upwards. 

Jihoon lifts one of Mingyu’s legs up and kisses the inside of his knee. 

“Your thighs are absurd,” he says, squeezing his fingers into Mingyu’s leg, “You could crush me with these.” 

“Hockey,” Mingyu explains with a breathy giggle. Jihoon sinks his teeth into the meat of Mingyu’s thigh, making him gasp, “Wh-why are you being so nice to me?” 

The question takes him by surprise. Are people not constantly telling this boy how pretty he is? How can they not, when he blushes so nicely? 

“I’m not,” he says finally, turning his head and pressing his mouth against Mingyu’s inner thigh again, “I’m just telling the truth.” 

Jihoon slows to a stop when he has Mingyu naked underneath him. He sits back on Mingyu’s thighs, tracing a line down the side of his body with a fingertip, watching the goosebumps bloom on his skin. 

It’s still raining outside, the occasional gust of wind rattling against the window panes, and the faded grey light gives the room a dreamlike quality. It feels safe, here with Mingyu.

Jihoon is painfully, deliberately slow as he preps Mingyu, stroking his thighs and kissing his tummy.   
When Jihoon pushes inside of him, he feels the muscles in Mingyu’s belly tighten, and watches his eyes squeeze shut. Mingyu’s taking quick, shallow breaths, one hand gripping the pillow behind him and the other tugging on his own hair. 

“Shit,  _ Mingyu _ ,” Jihoon gasps, fitting his hands around Mingyu’s waist, “ _ Good boy _ .” 

Mingyu keens at that, his hands grasping at Jihoon, landing on his shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Jihoon nuzzles against Mingyu’s neck, pressing their chests together, and Mingyu wraps his arms around Jihoon’s back, pulling him in deeper and making them both groan.

Mingyu whimpers in protest when Jihoon eventually pulls out, but Jihoon just laughs quietly, rubbing his hands down Mingyu’s sides. Mingyu looks up at him with teary, pleading eyes, his pupils blown wide. 

“I’ve got you,” Jihoon says softly, taking Mingyu into his mouth and sliding two fingers inside him. He’s panting now, both hands in Jihoon’s hair, fucking up into his mouth. When he comes, he twists his fingers into Jihoon’s hair, tugging hard in a way that makes Jihoon’s hips buck forwards.

Jihoon removes the condom and wraps a hand around himself, intending to come on Mingyu’s chest, but Mingyu hooks two shaky hands around the back of Jihoon’s thighs and directs him to his open mouth instead.

Jihoon collapses onto the bed afterward, stretching out against the pillows. Mingyu curls up small next to him, his breath hot on Jihoon’s neck. 

They lie still like that, chests rising and falling together, until Mingyu wiggles closer and kisses Jihoon’s bare shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles. 

Jihoon laughs, low and breathy. A heavy, glowing warmth spreads through his chest. He reaches across the sheets and takes Mingyu’s hand in his. 

* * *

When Jihoon wakes up, he has Mingyu’s heavy, sweaty limbs wrapped around him. It’s almost sunset, now, and the only light in the room comes from the two small windows by Mingyu’s bed. 

He manages to wriggle one arm free from Mingyu’s grasp and stretches, before settling his hand in Mingyu’s hair. He wonders absently if he should leave, and is surprised to find that he doesn’t want to. 

He tilts his head back and watches raindrops race each other down the window as he plays gently with the hair at the nape of Mingyu’s neck. He hums along to a song that’s been stuck in his head all day, singing a few words out loud, his voice soft in the quiet room. 

After a few minutes, he feels Mingyu start to stir, and he buries his face in Jihoon’s chest. 

“I like your voice,” he mumbles, his lips against Jihoon’s sternum. Jihoon doesn’t have a response to that, so he just scratches the back of Mingyu’s head, a small smile playing over his lips. 

Mingyu sits up and stretches, his dark hair a fluffy mess and his face puffy with sleep. Jihoon thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“I wanted to take you on a date, first,” Mingyu says, running a hand through his hair, trying to tame it, “I was going to ask, tomorrow. I know we did this backward, but. Can we still..?”

He trails off, looking at Jihoon nervously. Jihoon smiles. 

“We can still.”

“Today?” 

“Mmh,” Jihoon says, rubbing at his eyes, “What if we ordered delivery today? And then, tomorrow, you can ask me again.”

Mingyu grins. He climbs out of bed and starts to search for his phone. He pulls it out of the pocket of the pants that he had left on the floor, then looks back up at Jihoon, concern on his face. 

“You’ll say yes though, right?” 

Jihoon laughs.

“Yeah, Mingyu,” he says, “I’ll say yes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the HimboHive fic fest and it was really fun!! Himbo Mingyu is near and dear to my dumb, gay heart. 
> 
> The title is from Make Out by Julia Nunes!
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bloombloompowie)!


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